Chapter Ten
Half-truths. Rion was tired of listening to them. She’d been given more than an “if the opportunity arose” command. He’d seen it all over her face. But Selina hadn’t been lying when she’d said she hadn’t decided whether to kill him. Maybe the command had been more subtle.
Gods, he’d fallen for it. Fallen for her. To think that his brother, the High Lord of Brónach, had stooped so low. Rion clenched his fists. He was willing to pay someone to seduce his younger brother before killing him. And they called him the abomination.
Even with the truth revealed, Rion still faced a pressing matter. There really was a rebel faction trying to overthrow the crown. She hadn’t been lying about that part. He’d do his own research. Push them back underground and hunt them one by one, even if it took a decade to finish the job.
But first, he needed to leave this city.
Rion shoved through the door to the inn and bolted up to their shared room without greeting the male at the counter. Said male was gone when he descended a minute later.
He’d worry about changing and finding a meal later. He wanted to put as much distance between him and Selina as possible.
Clouds hid the sliver of moon from view as Rion marched down the empty street toward the city gates. It was quiet.
Too quiet.
Rion paused at the stillness and calmed his breathing to listen.
No animals.
No insects.
The hairs on the back of his neck rose.
Rion continued walking. Great. Well, he had his answer then. If she couldn’t lure him in, then he supposed killing him outright was her next move. Maybe the others in her group hadn’t been assigned to other villages after all. Maybe they’d been lying in wait this whole time.
Thirteen.
He could handle thirteen.
A lump formed in his throat. He could handle twelve. The thirteenth. The thought of seeing the light dim from her amber gaze . . .
Brónach’s magic sparked through the air. He could taste it. Feel the earth pulsing with their energy.
No one peeked from the windows or moved behind the drapes. No shadows shifted in the dark corners.
She’d claimed to be one of the best. Perhaps now he’d get to see her skills.
The city itself seemed to hold its breath as he continued through the streets at a leisurely pace. He gripped a knife in his belt. Perhaps they were waiting until—footsteps hit the cobblestones.
Rion counted.
One.
Their magic broke through the stones, cracking the seams, and shot toward him with blinding speed. Earth rose to form an impenetrable wall at his back. He tore the road to shreds, ripping up chunks of rock and breaking them into tiny pieces. Those pieces launched toward the greenery.
Two.
Bodies dropped from the rooftops, more emerged from the shadows. Not just thirteen. Three dozen. More. The knife left his hand, sinking into a shoulder. More blades were drawn. A storm of earth surrounded his body, circling in a dizzying field of deadly rock.
Three.
The first lunged with a second and third following close behind. Bodies dressed in midnight black circled from different angles, all in paired groups of two or three. Normally, he might have smirked at their creativeness, but he wasn’t in the mood today. Not with who was likely responsible.
Rion ducked around the first male’s body. He grabbed the second’s extended arm and twisted it behind the male’s back, positioning his body so that it shielded Rion from the blades flying through the air.
The male grunted in pain.
Four.
Rion shoved the male away and ducked again. He drew two more knives from his belt and let them fly. One landed in someone’s throat. Another sank deep into a thigh.
Five.
Vines raced for his feet, but he didn’t jump back in time. One caught his ankle and yanked hard. Rion only lost his balance for a split second before righting himself again.
Six.
He dodged a sword then broke the male’s arm at the elbow.
Seven.
Rion concentrated on the ground at his feet and all the wriggling things beneath. He crushed them, then his magic found the arms of two warriors closing in.
He crushed them, too.
Eight.
Residents began flicking on their lights. Blinds moved in the windows and a door cracked open.
Most were horror-stricken when they saw bodies littering the street. Warriors writhed in pain, clutching limbs they’d never use again.
But others were angry, so angry they did something Rion never expected. Clad in nothing but their night clothes, battle cries fell from their lips as they rushed toward him. Some carried makeshift weapons, an umbrella, a candlestick, the leg of a chair. Others drew traditional blades.
He stopped counting.
Rion ducked around their magic and untrained movements, reining in his sand to prevent it from lashing out.
He ducked around a broom handle and didn’t even bother moving when someone threw a book at him.
Rion backed away, ready to flee, but then the warriors were back. Not Selina’s. He didn’t recognize a single one of them. Which meant the governor himself had set this up. Or perhaps the attack was from the rebel faction.
He cursed when a knife sliced across his left arm. Not deep and certainly not enough to incapacitate. But they were getting too close.
Civilians. Fae who’d likely never held a weapon in their lives were willing to risk everything to rid the world of his existence.
He swallowed the pain building in his chest as he danced and dodged around their movements.
Maybe this was why Alec was trying to eliminate him. If this many people wanted him dead, if this many joined the rebels—
Rion couldn’t bring himself to hurt them. They were mothers and fathers with children and families of their own. They were just doing what they thought was right for the world.
At his expense.
Using his magic, Rion shoved them away. They’d suffer with a few bruises come morning, but nothing life-changing. Not like the assassins who’d be lucky if they woke up at all.
Rion ducked around a sharp piece of wood and punched the male in the stomach. The last of Rion’s blades flew from his hand when two assassins followed up.
He broke another male’s arm, then heard a female’s ankle shatter when she hit the ground at an awkward angle. Rion grimaced and prayed she wouldn’t have a limp for the rest of her long life.
Sharp pain pierced though the back of Rion’s arm and he spun to find a knife embedded in the skin. He ripped it out and let it fly.
Blood trickled down his fingers, but four more were upon him, charging while wielding both magic and weapons.
Two villagers cried out as they rushed from his other side. Rion ducked away from flying knives and heard the civilians cry out when the blades sank into them instead. He didn’t have time to check if the wounds were fatal.
Rion blocked another kick to his face, gripped the male’s ankle, then sent him flying sidelong into three of his companions.
Vines raced across the ground from all directions and caught his legs. They crawled up his body in a frenzy, securing his limbs and binding him enough that he toppled to the ground.
Feet rushed forward and for a split second, Rion wondered if it would be easier to just let it happen. But Saoirse—he’d witnessed her grief first hand with their mother’s disappearance and again after their father’s death.
If she lost him, if she lost Alec—
Rion screamed, letting the roar echo through the night as his magic spun. He shot it out in a violent wave that knocked everyone, civilians included, to the ground. The particles attacked the vines binding him, freeing his hands and legs in seconds. Those on the ground scrambled back to their feet.
Hatred shone in their eyes. Such deep hatred for a complete stranger.
Anger rose in him, too. He was sick of their judgement.
Rion slammed his magic into the next two so hard he heard their noses break, something else too, likely a jaw or eye socket. They writhed on the ground, screaming in pain as blood gushed from their faces.
He spun when slender fingers wrapped around his wrist. She’d been so silent that—fury poured from her. So much fury that it made him step back.
Too slow.
He’d been too slow as a sharp pain shot through his wrist and up into his arm. His skin bulged, then ruptured in half a dozen places where stems pushed out from beneath his flesh. Bloody leaves unfurled.
His magic reacted quicker than he could think and pierced through her torso in several places. All vital.
Her fingers slackened and Rion recoiled, gripping his arm, unable to bend or move it without blinding pain.
No time. There was no time to process it as another figure lunged. His heart was racing, beating through his chest like a violent drum. And his magic reacted again, tearing the flesh from a male’s outstretched arm.
A knife sank into Rion’s right shoulder, then Rion let his magic explode. It surged beneath and around him, tearing through the rest of the cobblestone, swirling in a storm that prevented any from getting close. It peeled away their skin and muscles, leaving large hunks of flesh dangling from bone.
Screams echoed from somewhere in his mind. A voice that begged him to use restraint, but something else was there too, egging him on, claiming they deserved it.
Maybe they did. After all, they’d attacked him first. Everyone always did. He’d been born into a world that’d deemed him cruel so perhaps cruel is what he should be.
Let them suffer for a change.
“Monster,” a female sneered, blood dripping from between her teeth.
Monster. He’d been called that before. He saw the surrounding carnage. Knew exactly what it would look like to those who cleaned up the streets tomorrow. It was so easy to blame the creature they all feared.
Rion exposed his fangs and growled back.
He was done with mercy.
They fell one at a time. Died in vain as they sacrificed their lives for a false belief.
It was only after he was covered with their blood, only after the street had been bathed in gore that the civilians began to retreat.
Rion stepped and they stepped back.
He growled and they ran.
But when he turned his back, heading straight for the governor’s manor, they lunged at him again.
And Rion bathed the streets with their blood.